


Watching is Not Seeing

by PuzzledHats



Series: A War in the Stars [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ADWD spoilers, Alternate Universe, F/M, Far Future, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-16 20:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuzzledHats/pseuds/PuzzledHats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unwilling to look him in the eye; she instead focused on his chest, the new tattoo suddenly in focus.</p><p>It was a wolf, a direwolf to be exact. </p><p>--An Arya and Gendry reunion set in outer space. Sci-Fi--</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I set stupid tasks for myself. Like "What would a Sci-Fi version of ASOIAF look like?" And this is the result. 
> 
> As always, GRRM owns everything and I wish I had a tenth of the ability he does.

The escape pod was never intended for extensive use. The controls were clumsy, fuel minimal and if she wasn’t found quickly, death was eminent. But before death, insanity seemed likely. Four days drifting aimlessly in space was having its toll.

But Arya had been trained as a Faceless Man. Panic was not an option, so she sat calmly, staring out in the endless abyss of space through the one small porthole.

_“Watching is not seeing, dead girl.”*_

The words came back to her from another life.

_“The scuff of leather on stone sings loud as warhorns to a man with open ears. Clever girls go barefoot.”**_

With only the emptiness of space for company, the memories she had been avoiding since reclaiming her name seemed to be crashing in on her. Each one more painful than the last.

_“You remember where the heart is?”***_

They were haunting her; all the men who had left her. But she had only been a child then, unable to fully comprehend just how the world worked.

_“She’s not alone.”****_

No, no she couldn’t think about that. Not him. Instead she shifted her mind back to her reason for living.

“Ser Ilyn, Queen Cersei.” She said the only remaining names on her list. She had been busy over the last year, slowly whittling her list down. Her prayer was what had always kept her sane, focused. She used it now, like she always had.

Two names until she was free. Free for what, she wasn’t sure.

“Ser Ilyn, Queen Cersei.”

Suddenly there was a jolt, a groan of metal being moved and Arya stood trying to get a better view as to what hit her. But all she could see was great hulking ship with no markings. It was pulling her tiny, useless escape pod in to it's hull.

Arya prepared herself for whatever may be waiting for her, making sure her guns were accessible, her knives all in place. She even made sure her sword, Needle was loose in it’s scabbard. Ser Meryn had laughed when he saw the ancient weapon at her hip, that was until it had been sticking through his chest.

Once the ship was settled and the internal computer assured her the airlock had been secured, she opened the hatch, before her would-be-captors could force their way on board.

A shout rang out as she stepped out of the ship, catching sight of several people retreating.

“Oy! Who are you?” A voice yelled at her. “The computer said there was no signs of life aboard.”

The young woman stood before her. She was the only one who hadn’t retreated, instead moving forward.

“Computers lie,” was all Arya said looking around, quickly assessing the situation. Five people total. All of them were young, some very young, all dressed in rags, covered in dirt. She was in some sort of hanger of what appeared to be a salvage ship; junk lay in piles everywhere.

“Lie? What do you mean lie? This is an escape pod. We didn’t detect any distress signals.” Said the girl.

“The ship I was on was attacked by Lannisters. I barely managed to escape. I’m just trying to make it back to Westeros.” Arya lied. In reality it had been a Lannister ship, that Arya had attacked. She hoped the lie would move them to sympathy.

“Bloody hell, the Bull isn’t going to like this.” The girl said, rubbing a hand over her face. “Well, are you going to cause us trouble?”

Arya only shook her head.

“Good, come on then.” The girl was beckoning for her to follow. “We have to figure out what to do with you. Name is Jeyne, by the way.”

“Beth.” Arya said, relying on an old alias she knew well.

She followed Jeyne through corridors until they reached the bridge. Ten people were in the room, sitting in front of various work stations. She noticed one man, in front of an unmistakable battle center. _So, this isn’t just a salvage ship._

“Where’s the Bull?” Jeyne yelled.

Only one or two people turned to look at her, one of them telling Jeyne the Bull was in the forge. Jeyne only huffed and beckoned Arya to follow her once again.

Arya remained silent as she followed, trying to ignore the goosebumps on her arms or the shiver that ran down her spine. _Forge, bull. No, you’re over thinking it._

But Arya knew, long before she followed Jeyne in to the room labeled ‘The Forge’, what she would find there. She always knew with him. Even after all these years.

Loud heavy metal music blasted from a decrepit looking speaker in the corner. His back was to them, naked from the waist up, his bull tattoo still evident on his left shoulder. She’d forgotten how tall he was, his muscles more defined. He hadn’t heard them come in, too intent on the project in front of him.

 _Every hurt is a lesson._ For some reason the lesson she had learned from him hurt the most.

“Hey, Gendry!” Jeyne yelled over the music moving forward to turn it off. “I accidentally rescued an escape pod with a person still alive in it. What should we do with her?”

“I told you to be more careful.” He groaned, not looking up.

“Well, it’s too late. What am I supposed to do? Throw her out the airlock?”

He turned, standing up to his full height, pushing his black hair out of his face. _So tall._

Whatever he had been going to say was lost, because the minute he saw Arya he froze completely, mouth hanging open slightly.

They stood, face to face with each other for the first time in four years.

His eyes were just as blue as she remembered, his hair a little bit longer. On his chest, above his heart was a new tattoo. She couldn’t make out what it was, but wondered briefly who had held his hand when he had gotten it. _Maybe he didn’t need anyone to hold his hand any more._

His eyes moved over her entire body, trying to make sense of what was in front of him.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” He finally said. Taking a step forward, one of his hands reaching out toward her.

“Well, obviously I’m not.” She snapped, taking a step backward.

His hand dropped to his side.

“You two know each other?” Jeyne said, glancing between the both of them, casting suspicious looks in Arya’s direction.

“I’ll handle this from here. That will be all, Jeyne.” He said, motioning her toward the door.

After the door slid shut, he walked toward her, stopping just with in arms distance. Unwilling to look him in the eye, she instead focused on his chest, the new tattoo suddenly in focus.

It was a wolf, a direwolf to be exact. _For fuck’s sake._

She slapped him, once, hard across his cheek. He didn’t move, just held his ground.

“That’s for leaving me.” She said, her voice quit in its rage.

“You left me first.” He replied. His anger surprised her.

“How do you figure?” Her voice rising. Arya hadn’t yelled in years. The Faceless Men had taught her to control her emotions. Years of training, slipping away so quickly.

But this was Gendry. He had always had a strange affect on her.

“When Lem let it slip that they planned to bring you to Dondarrion instead of straight to Riverrun, you ran for it? Do you not remember stealing one of their fighters? Do you not remember abandoning me to the Brotherhood with no second thought?” He yelled, stepping forward.

“I didn’t escape, Harwin caught me before I could take off.” She yelled back in her confusion. She remembered. She had realized she was their captive and she had reacted, only thinking of escape. The entire escape attempt had lasted a total of ten minutes.

“Yeah, you were caught.” The fight seemed to go out of him.

He turned his back to her, walking back to the project he had been working on earlier. He didn’t pick up any of his tools though. Just stood there, his back to her, hands on his hips.

Arya felt blindsided. She tried to remember if he had given any indication at the time that he was upset. Nothing came to mind. _Not that I would have noticed._ All her anger disappeared. She felt guilty, an emotion Arya had tried very hard to eradicate from her psyche.

She stepped forward, with no idea of what she intended to do.

“Is that why you decided to stay on with the Brotherhood?” She whispered.

“Seven hells,” he muttered, turning back to face her. “Where have you been Arya?”

He looked older, she realized. He had been nineteen the last time she saw him; yet it still surprised her to see he had become a man, no trace of the boy left. But he had once been her friend. Her only friend, when she needed one most. Trust didn’t come easily to Arya, not since King’s Landing. She had once trusted him though, with her life.

“It’s a long story.” She said. _It’s such a long story._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A Game of Thrones, Arya IV  
> **A Clash of Kings, Arya VIII  
> ***A Storm of Swords, Arya VIII  
> ****A Storm of Swords, Arya II  
> Ok, I think that is all of GRRM quotes I used, carefully cataloged so you can find them in their original setting should you wish!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Gendry work on Arya's list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is happening. I can't seem to resist these two.
> 
> Another disclaimer: I know nothing at all about science. Pretty much making it up as I go. So full suspension of belief on that front!

_“I can’t believe you did it,” she said, slowly tracing the silhouette of the fresh bull tattoo on his shoulder with her finger._

_He was silent, not moving. She didn’t stop, just continued to run her finger around the image. The intimacy of the moment not lost on her. They were alone, in the tiny room the Brotherhood had assigned him. He sat on the lone cot and she half kneeled on the bed, half stood leaning over him, continuously tracing the tattoo. All the ointment he had asked her to rub in to it long since absorbed._

_But she didn’t move. Didn’t stop._

_“Arya,” he sighed, turning slightly to face her._

_They were close, so close._

_Then they were both touching each other. His hands, her face. Her hands, his neck. At fourteen, Arya wasn’t able to quantify what was happening. Only knowing that it had been building for a while. A long while._

_And when he leaned in, slightly brushing his lips over hers, she knew it was right. It was the only spark they needed. It was not chaste, it was not gentle._

_Their mouths, their tongues colliding, heat and friction. Their hands exploring._

_She ended up on her back, having lost her shirt somewhere in the process. He was laying between her thighs, sucking on her collarbone while his hands had slipped down underneath her underwear. Making her moan, pushing up, wanting more. She needed more. But when her hands moved to his pants, to remove them, to get at him, to get more._

_He stopped. Removing his hand from her pants to stop her own hand with his, leaning back as he did. Creating space between them, too much space._

_Arya groaned, rising to follow him. To bring him back to her._

_But he was far away. Too far, too far._

Arya jolted awake, sitting up, the dream disorienting her. Her body hot, flustered looking around, trying to get her bearings. She remembered, she was in a hotel room on the outskirts of King’s Landing. She could make out the outline of Gendry’s body on the other twin bed in the room, his back to her.

She moaned, falling back on the bed, the ache between her legs so very real. For half a second she thought about waking Gendry, begging him to finish what they started so many years ago. But she didn’t.

Instead, settling on taking a shower. She could take care of her own aches.

When she emerged from the bathroom sometime later, feeling considerably more relaxed and less frustrated, she saw Gendry sitting up on his bed, examining his hand-held.

“Ser Ilyn Payne was found dead this morning within his apartments at the Red Keep. The former King’s Justice appears to have died of natural causes.” Gendry read.

Arya smiled, then laughed. He looked up at her, smiling too.

“You aren’t going to tell me what you used?” He asked.

“I could tell you,” she said, leaning in conspiratorially, feeling slightly silly for the first time in ages, “But then I would have to kill you.”

Gendry smiled at that before getting off the bed, stretching.

“One left,” he said, as he disappeared in to the bathroom.

 _One left._ When she had told Gendry of her plans, he had only nodded along, asking the occasional question about logistics, before rising and telling her they better get started. She had been slightly surprised he wanted to come with her; but when she attempted to raise objections he had silenced her, explaining that she would need him and that each member of her family would kill him if he let her out of his sight again.

Gendry knew her family. That was odd for her to comprehend; that he had seen them more recently than she. He had told her about meeting Jon while making trades with the intergalactic defense space station known as the Wall. How Jon had begged Gendry to tell him everything he knew. Jon had been the one to help him initiate trade with Winterfell, after her remaining brothers had reclaimed it. How they too had begged for details of their adventures. He had suggested going to Winterfell first, but she knew she could only return when her list was complete. He had understood, not bringing it up again.

They left that day for Lannisport, using the small transport ship Gendry’s crew had assembled for them. Word had spread that the former Queen Cersei was being held at Casterly Rock until the Dragon Queen could deal with her, being preoccupied by the Other’s war on the Wall. Arya felt relief that she would get to Cersei first.

Once in Lannisport, they started to put their plan in to action. Arya had briefly considered going the poison route again, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She wanted to be there, she wanted to be the one to wield the weapon.

The plan was a simple one. Arya had done her homework, reading ancient manuscripts by hacking in to the Citadel’s database. She discovered an underground tunnel that had been abandoned. It led from the rocky coast up to the old dungeons of the great keep. All her intel told her that security had never been updated to include the tunnel system due to cave-ins. She had originally thought that the cave-ins meant the end of that plan, but she found her solution in Gendry. He had modified a laser gun to deconstruct molecules, something Arya didn’t even know was possible. When Arya asked him where he had learned to do that, he had scoffed, muttering something about not being as stupid as he looked.

It was a laborious process, one that took longer than they had originally anticipated. The modified laser gun worked well, but it still left debris to be cleared. The climb was steeper than they could have predicted. The path ended in what appeared to be the former warden’s office, a long hallway full of cells now used for storage was off to one side, stairs leading up on the other.

Arya collapsed on a bench along the wall, Gendry following to sit next to her. He handed her a protein bar from his pack, while she fished out water from hers. They ate in silence. Arya let the coolness of the stone walls cool her down, letting her head lean back, closing her eyes.

“What happens when you’re done?” He asked.

“I don’t know. Go home. See my family,” she said, not opening her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Go find your husband?” He asked.

She opened her eyes then, turning to him. He was studying her.

“I’d forgotten,” she confessed, biting her lower lip. She had heard about ‘Arya Stark’s’ marriage to Bolton’s bastard while still on Essos. “I suppose I’ll have to kill him too. Last I heard he was hiding behind Dreadfort’s force fields.”

“I was so angry when I heard. After everything, Arya Stark ended up married to a bastard in the end.”

_But not the right bastard._

She stood up, staring down at him. “I never cared about titles or nobility. It’s what a person does with their life, not the position they are born to.”

“Aye, you might not care, but the universe does.” His voice was bitter.

“Fuck the universe,” she said, grabbing her pack. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Then, we kill my husband.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arya and Gendry meet Ramsay Bolton.

In reality, it had taken exactly five minutes for her to reach Cersei’s room. Three minutes to reveal herself as Arya Stark, see the shock cross her face as she whispered “Valar Morghulis” in her ear, while shoving Needle through her chest. And another four minutes to get back to Gendry, leaving three minutes to spare, an all time best.

Gendry already had the schematics of the Dreadfort pulled up on his hand-held when she got back. Showing her that he’d already set a program to determine the best way in to the fortress.

Fortress was not really a proper name for what they found on arrival. The once dreaded Dreadfort lay in ruins, a shadow of its former self. Gendry’s program had taken no time at all in exploiting a weakness in the out-of-date force field to allow them entrance through a small gate.

“You wait here. I won’t be long.” Arya told Gendry as she finished hacking the lock on the gate.

He stopped her by grabbing her arm, pulling her back. “No way you’re going in there alone. Have you heard about what that sociopath does to people?”

“Of course, but he won’t even know I’m there until Needle is sticking through his heart.” She tried to smile, to reassure him.

“That’s crazy,” he said, moving to go through the door behind him. Quicker than Gendry, she moved between him and the door, planting her feet and placing both hands on his stomach to stop him.

“Listen,” she said, trying to prevent herself from yelling or thinking about the feeling of his stomach muscles bunching beneath her hands. “I am not stupid. It will be too late by the time anyone even realizes I was here. No offense, but you’re not the greatest at stealth. This will be much easier if I just handle it. You let me handle Cersei on my own.”

“This is different and you know it,” he said, towering over her, as if his height could intimidate her.

“Ok,” she said trying to placate him. “If I’m not back in thirty minutes, come looking for me.”

He looked down at her, back at the door and then back at her, before nodding once.

“Fine, but I’m coming to get you in exactly 30 minutes. I will tear this place down stone by stone, if I have to,” he said and she didn’t doubt him for a second, giving him a brief smile before shifting through the entrance.

She had barely made it past the once grand hall, when she felt the knife point at her throat, an arm around her middle in a vice grip. She silently cursed Gendry for being right.

“I’d know your face anywhere, lovely wife.” His voice sent shivers down her spine. “You know I used to make the other one wear a mask of your face, based on the last known picture of you. She wasn’t as pretty as you are.”

Arya tried to move her hand to reach one of her hidden knives, but he only pressed the knife into her throat, drawing blood.

“Oh, that won’t do. I know all about your tricks,” he said, moving them both forward, while pulling her flush against him. He was hard. _The sick fuck._ “Men, come help me.”

Three men appeared out of a side room, one pushing something to her neck, causing her entire body to be paralyzed.

They moved her to a large room, from what limited view Arya had she could see medieval torture instruments filling the room. They strapped her to a wall, forcing her arms out above her head, spreading her legs. The flayed man symbol come to life. _Fuck._

She tried to stay calm, it had been maybe five minutes, she just had to survive the next twenty-five. Gendry would come.

Once she had been properly strapped down, Ramsay removed the device from her neck, allowing feeling to flow back through her body. She twisted her head, glad to have the limited movement back. Ramsay excused his men, saying something about getting to know his wife better.

He was walking around a table in front of her, arranging various knives and other things, whose purpose Arya did not wish to dwell on.

“I’m going to kill you,” Arya said, hoping to get him talking.

“And I’m going to rape you,” he sang back at her gleefully. “But first I must break you, my dear sweet wife.”

He moved toward her, a small but sharp looking knife in one of his hands. “I think I’ll take your nipples first. No wait, maybe I’ll let you fuck my knife. That would make you never stray again.”

He laid the edge of the steel at her throat again, looking for all the world like he couldn’t decide between which color of shirt to wear.

Arya was beginning to feel slightly worried when the whole place shook with a resounding BOOM!

Ramsay dropped the knife in his haste to get to the door. Another BOOM. His hand was on the door, when it flew inward. _Should have known he couldn’t wait five minutes, let alone thirty._

Gendry was there, holding some sort of large gun, which he threw away when he saw Ramsay, preferring to punch him in the face. Ramsay stumbled back in to the table, grabbing a long jagged knife from it, making Gendry pause.

“Oh I know you too,” Ramsay said, backing up, trying to put the table between him and Gendry. “You’re the Baratheon bastard.”

_Baratheon? What?_

“I should have known she would be with you. I always heard she had an affinity for bastards.” Ramsay continued. “Don’t worry, I’ll share her with you when I’m done. She is very beautiful. Two to three fucks should do it, then she is all yours.”

“You won’t be touching her.” Gendry said, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“You’re willing to die for a Stark bitch?” Ramsay sneered. “Like father, like son.”

Ramsay made to bolt for the door, but Gendry was quicker. He leapt over the table that lay between them, pulling Ramsay back around, landing punch after punch. The assault was endless, leaving Ramsay curled in a ball on the floor. Until Gendry reached down hauling him to his feet, moving him in to a headlock, positioning him so they could both see Arya.

“Take a good long look at her,” Gendry said. Arya couldn’t remember ever hearing him this angry. Ramsay only made gasping noises, clawing at whatever part of Gendry he could reach. “I’m the only bastard who will be fucking her.”

Then Gendry’s arm around Ramsay’s neck twisted, constricting. Arya heard the snap, watching as the lifeless body fell to the ground.

He stood to his full height, meeting Arya’s gaze. His face was stone, impossible to read. As he began to walk toward her she had a single moment of fear. _Ours is the Fury._

When he did reach her, his touch on her arm just above the strap was gentle. Releasing all the straps, he bent over to scoop her up in to his arms.

“I can walk.” She began, but the protest died when he shot her a glare.

He carried her all the way back to their ship, depositing her on the small bunk in the back before moving to the flight controls, setting the navigation course. He made sure the take off was a success, before turning to her.

“I told you it was a ludicrous idea,” he said, his voice low but full of rage. When she didn’t respond, he roared, punching the closest wall. His roar turned to a curse when his hand connected with the metal.

She jumped up, to see what damage he had inflicted on himself. “What did you do that for?”

“I’m angry!” he yelled, but he let her examine his hand all the same.

“Well, that was stupid!” she yelled back. The hand wasn’t broken, but would be bruised. She grabbed a first aid kit, carefully rubbing numbing ointment in to his knuckles, taking her time. When she was finally finished, she wrapped the hand in gauze to keep ointment in place.

“Arya,” he whispered, sounding broken. She looked up to find he was already staring at her. “Arya.”

She wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but their lips met with a crash. Arya clawed at him, pulling him as close to her body as she could. He pushed her back against the wall he’d hit moments before, pulling at her legs. Arya took the hint, jumping up, wrapping her legs around his waist, thrusting forward with her hips.

And there, there it was. He wanted this just as much as she did.

The knowledge spurred her on, causing her to pull his coat, then his shirt from his body. His hands were already under her shirt, pushing under her bra, gently twisting one nipple, while his mouth moved to suck gently at her ear lobe. She moaned.

 _Finally._ Arya hadn’t realized just how much she’d wanted this. She moved her hands to his pants, working on the zipper.

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP

Neither of them moved.

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP

He backed away, refusing to make eye contact, turning his back on her; leaving Arya to deal with the call signal. She almost moved to him, when another three more beeps sounded.

Groaning, Arya hit the button to take the call.

A voice filled the small aircraft, “You have entered Winterfell airspace. We have been unable to identify your ship. Please confirm identity now, before we are forced to take further measures.”

Arya didn’t recognize the voice but responded anyway. “This is Arya Stark, returning to see my family.”

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Identify yourself or deal with the consequences.” The voice sneered back.

“This is Gendry of the Brotherhood. Clearance code G78J93T.” Gendry leaned over her shoulder, tapping the button before Arya could reach it. He had dressed again, the only sign of their interlude was his slightly more ruffled hair.

She turned, standing but he backed away. _Always backing away._

“You’re cleared to land. Welcome back, Gendry,” the unidentified voice came back, sounding welcoming.

He moved past her to sit in the pilot seat, taking control. Ten minutes later they had landed. She moved to retrieve her pack, but his hand on her arm stopped her.

“I was scared, that’s why,” he motioned to the wall she had been pressed against. “It was just the adrenaline.”

_Bullshit._

“Is that the only reason?” she asked, trying to check her anger.

“It has to be,” he said, moving past her to the exit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya's return to Winterfell.

Winterfell was haunting Arya. Everywhere she turned old memories waited for her. Long dead, forgotten faces. Old Nan, Jory, Robb, her mother, her father...It was too much. After the first week, the joy of being reunited with her brothers, with her home began to wear thin. This was what her life was now, no longer driven by revenge.

Bran and Rickon did their best to fill her in on everything she had missed. They told her about Sansa’s escape from the Vale, her decision to stay married to Tyrion Lannister in order to keep peace between the houses. They talked of their own adventures. Rickon telling tales of Skagos, while Bran would only tell small details about his time on the Others’ planet.

They never asked her about where she had been, she suspected Gendry had filled them in on some of it. Arya felt relief at not having to tell her brothers of all her sins. Telling Gendry had been cathartic, he would never judge her. Telling her brothers would be disastrous, their pity not something Arya wanted or needed.

She rarely saw Gendry. His work on Winterfell’s HydroMolecular computer system kept him busy, according to Bran. He had told her Gendry was one of the most sought after engineers in the galaxy. He had built weapons during the war but now salvaged the galaxy, reforging old forgotten ships into highly wanted machines that helped with the rebuilding of Westeros.  But Arya knew better. He was avoiding her.

And she missed him. Not realizing just how much she had once again come to depend on his quiet unassuming presence in her life over the last couple of weeks. She thought about finding him, beating him into cutting it out, but couldn’t bring herself to act. He had left her once and it nearly destroyed her, maybe it was better this way.

Arya attempted to help with the rebuild but she was ill equipped to run a household. She had spent the last seven years learning how to defend herself, how to kill; not how to order supplies or make sure the household staff’s hand-helds were up to date.

“I feel useless,” she told Bran, after failing to order the correct components for the new greenhouse irrigation system.

“It just takes time.” His eyes shifted from her, remembering something painful.”It takes time to believe it is really over. That this is the new reality.”

Rickon is the one to warn her first about the Dragon Queen’s letter to Bran suggesting a suitable marriage of Lady Arya Stark to a notable house would further help mend the war torn Westeros.

Lady Arya Stark, the name chafed.

 _He knew._  Gendry knew what had taken Arya weeks at Winterfell to put together: her life was no longer her own; she was a Stark again and with that came all the responsibility. He knew that her future was already being written for her by somebody else.

She wanted to run but the guilt at leaving her family, when she could actually do something to help, was too much for her to overcome. She wanted to be selfless like Sansa, but the thought of marrying a stranger terrified her and Arya loathed fear.

Being some lord’s wife was never how she wanted her life to end up. She was supposed to be a fierce warrior whose name was whispered throughout the galaxy. There was no hope of that glory now, she would be a blip in the history of the universe. Just another Stark girl married to some idiot lord.

She hated it, the resentment she had felt as a child resurfacing.

Everything changed when news reached Winterfell of the Dragon Queen’s downfall. That Jon planned to mount a ground assault on the Others’ home planet, hoping to end the war. The final piece of news stunned everyone. In a weird twist of fate it was discovered that Jon was half Targaryen, half Stark; a lost Dragon Prince.

Arya didn’t hesitate, waiting until night fell, leaving nothing but one quick note to her brothers, saying she’d be back, maybe, someday.

Gendry was waiting for her at the ship she planned to commandeer, a pack thrown over one shoulder. He didn’t say anything, just moved to enter the keycode into the ship’s door.

“I don’t need you,” she said.

He only shrugged.  
 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to SigilBroken for proof reading my stuff, not letting me look like a complete idiot. Wish I could write half as well as her.
> 
> Also, obviously, I believe R+L=J.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry and Arya at the Wall.

The Wall was bigger than Arya could ever have imagined, a giant floating mass hanging in the middle of space.

Tyrion Lannister was waiting to greet them.

“Good sister, is that you?” he asked.

“The one and only.” She replied, but she could see he was holding a small DNA test machine.

He shrugged, when she lifted her eyebrow at it. “We’ve dealt with many false Arya Starks before. I must be sure."

“What are you even doing here? Your Queen is dead and your wife is in King’s Landing,” she said, as she held out her arm so he could take some of her blood.

“There is always another Queen.” he said, making no further attempt to explain the cryptic statement. Only turning to Gendry and saying, “I’m glad you’re back, Gendry. We have need of someone with your skills.”

The test came back positive, proof that she was indeed Arya Stark. Tyrion laughed at Arya’s eye roll, then motioned for them to follow.

Jon stood at the command center of the bridge, turning as they came in. He smiled, causing Arya to break out in a run, leaping at him. He caught her easily, holding her close. She could feel his laughter rumbling through his chest, causing her to laugh too.

Releasing her, Jon stood back to look at her, neither of them able to wipe the grins from their faces, before ruffling her hair. “Little sister.”

“Cousin, now,” Tyrion said from behind her.

“No, always little sister. Always.” Jon smiled down at Arya and she could only return the smile in earnest, thankful that some things never change.

In Jon’s private apartment, he had a meal waiting for them. He asked Gendry to join them, but Gendry declined, intuitively knowing Arya would want time alone with the one brother who always understood her best.

During the course of the meal Jon began the very long process of telling her all that had transpired since they had last seen each other. When he got to the part of Daenerys Targaryen’s death, Arya couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy in her heart. The Dragon Queen went out a hero, sacrificing herself along with her unbeatable dragon level ships in order to save the Wall. Arya thought that was the end of the story, that she was caught up, but Jon wasn’t finished.

“I’m married,” he said, taking a casual sip of water, eyeing her over the glass.

“You’re joking,” she said, laughing.

“No, I’m not.” The smile fell from Arya’s face, because she could see he was all too serious. “Years ago, before Stannis defeated the Wildlings he made me swear to protect his wife and daughter at all cost, should he fail.”

“Why would you agree to that?” Arya interrupted, not sure where the story was going.

“His assistance saved our lives. I owed him a great debt; I had no choice,” he said. “Shireen Baratheon is the last known legitimate heir to the Iron Throne. When Stannis died she became the most important pawn in the game.”

“But Shireen Baratheon has been missing for years. I read reports about people’s attempts to find her,” Arya said.

“No, I only wanted everyone to think she was missing.” He continued. “I kept her and her mother at the Wall for a time, but then her mother died shortly after Stannis was defeated in the first Others attack. I wasn’t sure what to do with her, who I could trust. The Wall is no place for an eleven year old girl. Then Dany invaded Westeros and I knew Shireen wasn’t safe.”

“So you hid her?” Arya concluded.

“Yes,” he said, but his face looked pained. “But I knew that wasn’t good enough. You see, if she was ever discovered, she would be in just as much danger. She was a sweet child, very timid because of her scarring but the same age as you. I had to help her, so I married her.”

“You married a child?” Arya spit, disgust evident on her face.

“It’s not like that,” Jon said, rolling his eyes. “It was never consummated obviously; she boarded a ship five minutes after the certificate was signed. I’ve ruined her chances at being used; no one who finds her could use her as a way to the Iron Throne because she is already married. But if a suitable match could be made, to someone who would protect her; a divorce would be easy to obtain because the marriage was never actually consummated. It was the only way I knew to keep my promise.”

Arya sat back, thinking it over. _Leave it to Jon to throw his own happiness away in order to help one small girl._

“But she’s the rightful Queen now,” said Arya, remembering what Tyrion had said. “Will you be getting a divorce?”

“That’s the problem,” Jon groaned. “She is the rightful Queen. Tyrion leaves tomorrow to collect her. The small council has been apprised of the situation. With the recent discovery of my parentage, they want the marriage to stand.”

“They don’t care that you’re a bastard?” Arya asked, astonished.

“No, all they care about is that it would mean a Baratheon Queen ruling alongside a half Targaryn, half Stark King. They think Westeros will rally around the union. Our children would finally unite the houses,” he finished, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“You’re telling me you’re going to be king?” Arya asked, astonished. “You’re going to go along with it.”

“I’m going to go along with whatever Shireen wants. I swore to protect her and if being married to a Targaryen helps her hold the throne,” he paused and shrugged, looking sad, “I don’t see any other way.”

“All for honor, still a Stark after all,” she said.

“I don’t care who my parents are; I am and always will be Ned Stark’s bastard,” he said, exchanging a sad smile with Arya.

“Will she be a good Queen?”

Jon was silent for a while, causing Arya to worry about the answer.

“Yes,” he said finally. “I think she could be a very good queen, if only Westeros can look past the scars on her face. She was a kind, thoughtful child and the letters I receive from her indicate she has grown into a good woman.”

“With you by her side, she can’t go wrong,” Arya said, trying to sound reassuring but failing. She knew Jon would be a good king but the news of his marriage out of duty troubled her.

That night Arya couldn’t sleep. Laying awake, thinking how yet another Stark was willing to sacrifice their freedom. First Sansa, now Jon. Even Bran had mentioned attempting to make a match with Meera Reed in order to further cement their hold in the North. Arya was the only Stark left who was was rejecting what her station of birth would bring her.

As she drifted off to sleep, Daenerys Targaryen’s death kept replaying through her mind. She went out a hero, in battle. _Would that we were all so lucky._

The next morning, she woke to find her mind made up. It was the only option for her, always had been. She would fight alongside Jon; she would get a warrior’s death.

She found Jon in the command room, screens filled the walls and table, showing troop movement and supplies. Gendry was with him, listening as Jon explained what he would need to fight the leader of the Others. After Gendry left, to go forge Jon’s weapon, the room began to fill with brothers formerly of the Night’s Watch and Wildlings. One of the men, who appeared to be Jon’s assistant suggested she would like to wait with him outside the room, but Jon cut him off.

“No, I am in need of a Faceless Man but I am more in need of my sister’s council.”

Arya loved him for it.

From that point on she was in the middle of all the planning. Jon needed her to lead a small stealth team behind enemy lines in order to box them in, leaving them no choice but to face the largest concentration of Jon’s army. It took days of planning, endless nights of debate on the best tactic. Somedays Gendry was there to assist in weapons and explosive recommendations, other days she only saw him at night in the mess hall. The final plans were drawn up and a day was set. They were ready, Jon would lead them.

The night before the attack, Arya found Gendry in his makeshift work room. An ancient Valryian long sword lay in front of him on the workbench. She knew Jon called it Longclaw.

“What are you doing to it?” She asked, startling him slightly, leaning over his shoulder to look at his work. Gendry was laying almost invisible wires along the blade, attaching them to the hilt where Arya could see a microchip. “What good would a sword do against the Others?”

“Guns and other weapons don’t work on the Others’ leader; the one Jon will be taking on,” he said, his hand running lovingly over the blade. “I’ve done some research and modified his sword to contain properties that should lower the Other’s defense shield. Hopefully, it works.”

“When did you become so smart?” she teased, looking down at him, moving her hip to lean against the work bench.

“I was always this smart, milady.” He smirked. “You were just too smart to notice.”

She laughed at that. They sat there in companionable silence, neither of them willing to bring up what tomorrow would bring.

“Thank you,” she said finally, the words felt unfamiliar in her mouth. “For always following me, for always having my back, for being my friend. I...”

 _I love him._ The thought caught her off balance, causing her to take a step back.

For one heartbreaking moment she thought about telling him, but stopped herself. They had no future together. He might be a Baratheon, but he was still a bastard. Arya Stark was meant to marry a man with impeccable lineage. _Fuck Arya Stark._

Gendry was looking at her oddly, his handsome face turned up toward hers. She wanted to kiss him.

“Stay safe tomorrow, you stupid bullheaded boy,” she said instead, before leaving the room. She could not let herself dwell on things that could never be, going to sleep that night knowing she had made the best possible decision.

Gendry was pacing at the end of her bed when she awoke the next morning. Groggily she sat up, leaning against the headboard, waiting for him to say whatever he had come there to say.

He stopped, hands on his hips, staring down at her.

“You’re a coward,” he said.

The statement took her off guard, causing her to reel her head back, smacking it on the wall behind her. She was about to tell him just how much of an idiot she thought he was, when he continued.

“Don’t play games with me. I know you, Arya. I know the way you think. Only a coward would go into battle with the intention of never coming out again,” he spit, the disgust written on his face.

“What?” she asked, trying to figure out how he could have ever known her plans.

“And why Arya? Because you might be forced in to a marriage that could help bring peace to Westeros?”

“I-” She wanted to interrupt, the anger burning inside of her. He just talked over her.

“I never thought I would see the day that Arya Stark was scared of a man,” he finished, giving her one last look of disgust before he was out the door.

She seethed with rage the whole morning, barely containing it as they boarded ships to take them to the Others’ planet, refusing to make eye contact with Gendry.

“Stick them with the pointy end,” Jon said to her, as they landed; both going their seperate ways.

Rage guided her as she lead her team safely behind the Other’s forces. Pulling on her anger, she took down as many of the foul creatures she could get her hands on. Never stopping, just killing; until they all watched in awe as Jon used Longclaw to sever the head of the oldest, most fierce Other, officially ending the war.

But her anger did not dissipate.

As remaining survivors walked back to the ships, she caught sight of Gendry, talking to Jon. She ran, pushing him, sweeping his feet out from him with her leg, causing him to land flat on his back. She distantly heard Jon yell her name as she leaned over, pushing her knee in to Gendry’s sternum, preventing him from moving. He looked up at her in confusion.

“I am no coward,” she spat.

He laughed for reasons she couldn’t comprehend.

“And I fear no man,” she finished, getting up, enjoying watching the smile slip from his face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, stick with me.
> 
> I feel like people don't realize Shireen is the same age as Arya. That she is truly the last legitimate heir to the throne. That Jon feels an obligation to Stannis and also protecting innocent women. The seven year age gap is huge, but we're Gendrya fans, so...? I mean, you know that Jon is the greatest, oh wait, is my fangirl showing?!?!
> 
> I know it's a crack ship, but when it comes to ASOIAF, all bets are off. I would like to believe something as beautiful as Val and Jon could happen, but GRRM has taught me to expect the unexpected. And doesn't Shireen deserve someone who would at least look out for her best interest?


	6. Chapter 6

Jon begged her to go with him. “Please, she’s family now. Don’t you want to get to know her?”

Arya smirked, raising an eyebrow at that. It had been Jon’s idea for Arya to accompany him to King’s Landing, to welcome back Shireen Baratheon, Queen of Westeros. Word had spread across the various news outlets of her return and her marriage to the last remaining Targaryen. The support seemed to be unanimous, everyone hailing the combining of such major houses as the offical end to all the war and strife that had plagued Westeros for so long.

Now they just had to hope Shireen would be a good queen. She had already agreed to allow the marriage to stand, having written to Jon to tell him she only wanted what was best for Westeros. Jon took the news in stride; confessing to Arya that he had never thought he would have a family of his own and the prospect of one made him happy.

Arya wished she could look at her impending marriage with as much enlightenment.

“I’m begging you, Arya,” he said the desperation evident. “I haven’t seen her since she was a child. You’re the same age, maybe you’ll have something in common.”

But Arya liked to see him squirm, so she held her tongue. The young Queen was scheduled to arrive at any moment. Jon didn’t want to face her alone.

“Please, I’m nervous.” And there it was, the truth. Arya only laughed, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

“As if I would leave my favorite brother in his time of need. Lead the way,” she said, before turning to Gendry. “You coming?”

He looked for a minute like he might decline, but she could see he wasn’t able to resist seeing his last living relative.

Gendry and Arya never talked about the final battle. Both understanding that Arya had made her choice. _Family, Duty, Honor._ Her mother’s house words were all she had left.

They waited on the main landing platform, Sansa having joined them to wait for the return of her husband. Seeing Sansa again was better than Arya had expected. They were still very different; but Sansa’s time during the war had changed her; making her far less judgmental, far more understanding.

The shuttle landed, they watched as the Queensguard descended, followed by Shireen Baratheon and Tyrion Lannister.

Arya had heard that Shireen was ugly as a child due to a jutting jaw, thick ears and the greyscale scar covering half her face. But she must have grown into her odd features, because the tall, thin woman before them was beautiful. Thick black hair hung in waves around her face, bright blue eyes assessing the area; the small greyscale scar on her left cheek running down the side of her neck was the only thing marring the otherwise flawless face.

The Queen nervously pulled her hair forward, attempting to hide the scar, looking around timidly. Shireen might be beautiful but the scars of youth, both physical and mental, had left their mark. _She is scared._

Looking sideways, trying to figure out why Jon hadn’t moved to greet the Queen, Arya saw his mouth hanging open slightly.  A quick jab with her elbow brought him back to reality, causing him to spring in to action.

He bowed to the Queen, extending an arm to her when he rose. Both were blushing. Jon made the introductions. Shireen was kind, but shy when Jon introduced Sansa and her. Arya wondered if they had made a mistake, if a shy Queen could rule.

If anyone felt like questioning the DNA test proving Gendry’s ancestry, Shireen standing before him would have silenced them. Same blue eyes, same hair color, both tall and fit. Shireen’s smile grew when Jon introduced him.

“I had heard about your existence, cousin, and was glad to hear I still have family in this world,” Shireen said.

“Yes, me as well, Your Grace. I’ve never had any family,” he said, sending a shot of pain through Arya.

“The small council is waiting to greet you inside,” Jon said, once the introductions were done.

“You will accompany us as well,” Shireen said to them. “I would value some friendly faces on the small council.”

The council meeting was an eventful one. There was much to discuss and Shireen clearly intended be a hands-on monarch. Any fears Arya had were laid to rest because in the small council’s chambers, Shireen became a queen. She was well informed on all the topics, listening to the advice of her council members before making a ruling, clearly gaining the respect of everyone in the room.

She was all confidence when it came to her small council members, except for Jon. She tripped on her words when she spoke to him; always looking over his shoulder, never meeting his eye.

Arya suspected she was nervous about the wedding ceremony the council has planned for the following day. They had thought it important for all of Westeros to see Jon and Shireen renew their vows, standing as a united front before they had the official coronation in a month’s time. Arya felt for the girl. Shireen and Jon were practically strangers.

Everything had been going fine in the meeting until Tyrion announced that Dorne was willing to call a truce as long as an advantageous marriage could be arranged for Trystane Martell. The Martells had sent a list of women they would consider.

Arya Stark topped the list. Her heart sank. _I fear no man._

Jon immediately crossed her name off, moving on. But Arya had made her decision the minute Gendry had called her a coward back on the Wall. She was no coward. _Family, Duty, Honor._

Not looking at Gendry, she spoke up, “I’ll do it. I'll marry him.”

Shireen caught her eye, giving her a sympathetic smile.

 

Lords and ladies from every house came to show their support of the new Queen and her King. The wedding ceremony was small but the feast was massive. Arya looked on with pride watching Jon at the head table. She noted that while Shireen and Jon seemed able to make conversation with all those around them, they barely spoke to each other.

Arya saw Gendry slip out of the Great Hall through a side door when everyone started calling for the bedding. An arcane tradition that Arya had no wish to participate in, she gladly followed him, catching up with him just as he was about to enter his room.

“Going to bed so soon? The party just got started,” she called after him, stopping him in his tracks.

He turned to her. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her. Then he shook his head, before walking through the door.

Arya followed.

Gendry stood in front of the large windows overlooking all of King’s Landing, his back to her.

“Arya, I’m tired.” He sounded tired.

“I’m not a coward,” she said, unsure of why she felt the need to have this conversation; only knowing they needed to come to an understanding.

“I know,” he said.

“I’m not selfish.”

“I know.”

“Shireen seems to like you. Maybe she’ll legitimize you, give you the Stormlands,” Arya said.

He turned to her then, looking at her sadly.

“She can’t do that. I would have the better claim to the throne. It’s safer for me to remain a bastard,” he said. “I will only ever be a bastard.”

“I don’t care--” she began, but couldn’t finish, biting her lower lip. Emotions swelling up inside of her.

“I know,” he said, walking forward.

“I...” she almost said it, almost let it slip. _I love you._

He cupped her face with both his hands when he reached her, whispering, “I know.”

His thumbs traced her cheekbones, then his nose nudged her, his mouth slipping against hers. She folded her arms around his neck, pulling him close with no intention of letting go; opening her mouth to him.

They took their time, slowly undressing each other, trailing kisses on exposed skin, memorizing each other’s bodies. They knew this was their only chance. Life had different plans for them; all they had was this moment.

He picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, moving them to the bed. He was gentle, so gentle as he laid her down. She ran her fingers through his impossibly thick hair, as he sucked on one of her nipples, his hand trailing down her stomach.

She arched beneath him as his finger slipped inside of her. Finding her wet, ready for him. Only him. She clawed his back, his thighs; sucking on his neck, his collarbone, whatever she could reach, wanting more.

“I love you,” he whispered as she wrapped her legs around him, taking him in. Pulling him as close to her as she could, taking all he would give. It was never enough.

They moved, finding a rhythm only they knew. Moaning, building each other up, up, up, it was good. _So good._

She peaked, moaning his name as he followed her, whispering “Arya, Arya, Arya.”

Later, as she lay sprawled across his chest lazily outlining the tattoo of the direwolf, she asked the question she had wanted to ask since the first time she’d seen it.

“Is this for me?”

She felt him breath deep, then his free hand, the one not tracing circles along her back, moved to weave their fingers together over the tattoo.

“It’s all for you,” he said.

“I want it to be you.” She can’t help the confession.

“But it’s not.” He’s so calm, she almost hates him for it.

“If I ran, would you come with me?”

“Always.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Trystane Martell arrived a week later. He was beautiful; olive skin, delicate features, long black hair. His hand soft and smooth when he to took Arya’s hand to kiss it.

She hated him.

Not that he gave her any reason to hate him. He was kind, inquisitive about her likes and dislikes; making every attempt to get to know her. He sought her out frequently, suggesting different activities they might do together. Play cyvasse, tour the gardens, visit the local museums; each one more boring than the last. 

When she suggested they might want to train together, he had looked at her in confusion before confessing he knew very little self defense.

Sansa told her how very lucky she was to be getting such a noble, good looking husband. She didn’t feel lucky.

Gendry was meticulously absent from all meals and small council meetings that Arya attended. She had only talked to him once since their night together, when he had brought her the Moon Tea packet. There was nothing left to say between them.

Trystane had asked about Gendry, wanting to know more about the Baratheon bastard that she had traveled with first as a child, then as an adult. He had been doing his homework on her. She declined to tell him anything, brushing Gendry off as a mere acquaintance. Trystane only looked at her with sad eyes, before telling her about his former betrothal to Myrcella Baratheon. Arya wasn’t sure why he shared the story until he reached the end. 

“I’ll always miss her. She knew me first, knew me best,” he said. “One does not forget first love so easily, but people in our position are not allowed the luxury of choice. We must make the best of what is given to us.”

Frustrated, Arya spent more and more time in the training room. Countless hours on end, day after day, paying very little attention to who came and went. Not really sure what she was training for.

That was where Shireen found her.

“Would you teach me?” Shireen asked, stepping forward, surprising Arya. “Just some basics with a knife.”

Arya looked around the room, knowing Shireen had waited until it was empty before approaching her, wondering how the young Queen had managed to slip her guard.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Arya said, with a smile. “But I don’t think you’ll ever need it, what with the Queensguard and Jon, as a husband.”

“I would never worry if Jon was with me,” she said, almost too quickly, a blush spreading over her face. “I’ve seen the videos of him slaying the Others’ leader.”

The awe in her voice caused Arya to pause before responding. “Yes, he is a force to be reckoned with. I suppose a little self-defense would be good for a queen to know.”

Shireen smiled broadly, motioning Arya to start the lesson. She soon discovered Shireen was a quick learner. She was able to disarm the training robot on the third try. With each success, Shireen loosened up, letting her guard down.

“Thank you for teaching me. I can’t think of better instructor than the great Arya Stark,” said Shireen with a smile, as they rested. “I was so glad to finally meet you. I’m afraid to admit, I’ve always been quite envious of you.”

“Me? Why?” Arya asked in disbelief; failing to see why anyone would be jealous of her.

“Jon has always been so proud of you. He would send me letters, while I was in hiding. Telling me all about his life, including his fierce little sister, whom he had given an ancient sword,” she said, pausing in thought, then her voice dropped down to a whisper. “I learned at the wall that Jon always valued women who could take care of themselves.”

Arya thought about telling her the truth, which was that Jon valued independence in a woman. But instead decided to show her the perfect way to geld a man, causing both of them to laugh.

“I’m not sure sure I enjoy you teaching my wife that particular move,” Jon said, surprising them both. He and Gendry stood at the door. Arya didn’t miss the way Jon eyed his wife in her tighter fitting training clothes.

Shireen dropped the knife at the sound of Jon’s voice, always anxious in Jon’s presence. He stepped forward, clearly desperate for her to be comfortable around him.

“I could arrange for some private lessons, if you wish,” Jon said.

“No, thank you,” Shireen said, shuffling her feet, looking anywhere but at Jon. Gone was the confident Queen, capable of ruling the entire planet; only an eighteen year old girl in the presence of a war hero remained.

 _She has a crush on him._ Arya gasped, drawing the attention of everyone.

They were all looking at her funny; so she laughed, shook her head and moved to stand by Shireen.

“Girls only training today,” she said, motioning them toward the door.

“Actually,” Gendry said, not looking at Arya. “I was looking for you, Your Grace. Would you accompany me back to the small council chambers?”

“Gladly,” Shireen said, walking past Jon without a second glance. Arya saw Jon’s shoulders slump, a grimace cross his face.

When they were alone, Arya turned on Jon. “She likes you.”

“What? She barely even talks to me, let alone look at me,” he said, incredulously.

“Trust me, I was trained to read people. I know what I’m talking about,” Arya said, smiling.

Jon didn’t say anything but looked exhausted. The weight of the world had rested on his shoulders for too long, dealing with a timid wife seemed to be just too much. Arya took pity on him. 

“Have you...?” Arya trailed off, suddenly embarrassed to be talking about sex with her brother.

“No,” Jon said, understanding what she was getting at. “She was terrified. I couldn’t do that to her. I don’t know what to do. Every attempt I make to reach out to her fails. I had hoped that we could at least be friends. Maybe this marriage was a mistake.”

Arya had no advice to offer, nothing that she felt would actually help.

“Give it time. Maybe you will grow to love one another,” she said.

Jon smiled at her. “Are we talking about love now, little sister?”

“She’s pretty. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at her,” Arya said with a smirk.

“Yes, my wife is beautiful. But I wasn’t talking about my love life. I was talking about yours. Or are you going to deny you’re in love with Gendry?” Jon asked, still smiling.

Gloom instantly settled in around her. She didn’t have enough energy to deny it, not when it came to Jon.

“Bran, Sansa and I have been placing bets on when you would finally admit it,” he continued. “What we don’t know is why you are refusing to be with him. Why are you agreeing to this marriage, when you’re in love with someone else?”

“I’m not a coward,” she said, for what felt like the thousandth time. “I am Arya Stark. I will do what is best for my family, for Westeros.”

“You belong with him.”

“My family needs me,” she repeated.

“Your family needs to know you’re safe. That you’re happy.”

“What about the marriage, your alliance plans with Dorne? I can be selfless like Sansa.” The excuse sounded small, even in her own ears.

His hand came to rest on her shoulder, he looked sad. “Arya, that was your idea, not mine. You have done your duty well. You survived, you systematically eliminated our family’s enemies, you were an integral part to taking down the Others. You’ve done enough.”

She could feel tears welling in her eyes. _Was it really that simple?_

It was.

She was off, running full speed ahead. Seconds later she slid in to the the small council chambers, struggling to catch her breathe.

“Arya, can we help you?” Tyrion asked.

But Arya only had eyes for Gendry, who stood at her sudden appearance.

“Ready?” she asked, standing up to her full height, never breaking eye contact.

For a second she thought he wouldn’t come, that he wouldn’t move, that he wouldn’t understand. Then he nodded, a slow smile forming on his face.

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! Thanks for all your support. 
> 
> PS - I'm currently toying around with the idea of writing the full Shireen/Jon story. Turns out I just really want those two, who have been through so much, to be happy.


End file.
